ON
WRITING LETTERS . . .
By Fred Venturini, Patoka,
Illinois
I was typing away on my computer a
few weeks ago when my roommate walked by and asked
what I was doing. I told him I was writing a letter,
to which he scoffed "people still do that? So
you’re the guy still buying stamps?"
Engrossed in the activity, I didn’t
mind him. Later, I began to think about how many
of my peers still write letters—or more exactly,
how few. It’s not exactly the "in" thing
to do right now, and a guy asking for an email address
is considered a cute come-on while asking for a mailing
address conjures up images of him stalking through
the bedroom window with duct tape stretched out for
some reason.
This of course isn’t a statement
meant to blanket the whole of the population—I
can only speak for my generation and perhaps only
my gender (which is male if you haven’t guessed),
but even at the age of twenty-two there’s plenty
of evidence to see why a writing a letter has become
an infrequent choice of communication.
First, let’s clarify what it
means to write a letter. I’m not talking about
a cover letter, a letter to the editor, or something
that absolutely requires the professionalism, time,
and effort that a letter requires. I’m talking
about writing a letter to see how someone’s
doing, to profess love for someone, to profess hatred
for someone, or to convert some other emotion into
ink. I’m talking about going through the process
of sitting, thinking, writing, sending, and waiting.
I’m talking about the kind of letter that you
pause to think about before you put into the mailbox.
A letter where you imagine how the recipient will
react when they read it, or a letter that sometimes
makes you want to flood the mailbox down the street
with a garden hose to get it back out before its
sent. In a word, I’m talking about a "personal" letter.
The obvious reason for a decline in
the art of letter writing is the new premium put
upon the commodity of time. As Red from The Shawshank
Redemption so deftly put it, "the world went
and got itself in a big damn hurry." We live
in an age where the mouse has become the remote control
of the world, and writing a letter has become the
equivalent of getting up to manually change the channel.
People exchange email addresses and get the advantages
of cute fonts, free postage, and instantaneous exchanges.
Further complicating things are the
wireless wars. Cell packages are becoming entrenched
in our culture, and with it, another layer of instant
communication. Now there are "direct connect" cell
phones that act as two-way walkie talkies to further
narrow the time gap, and I can’t help but ask:
aren’t all wireless phones glorified walkie
talkies in the first place?
None of this should diminish the importance
of writing a letter. In fact, it only serves to increase
a letter’s impact. Even if a letter is horribly
written, the maxim "it’s the thought that
counts" will significantly enhance the effect
a letter is trying to achieve. Writing a letter means
that a person thinks enough of another person to
sit down, collect thoughts, map an outline in their
mind, write the letter, read the letter, and re-write
the letter—with many faster options lying before
them.
But that’s not all. I remember
a time when a stamp was a very neat twenty-five cents.
This price has since inflated to a mathematically-unfriendly
thirty-seven cents, so even economics come into play
when sending a letter, along with the considerable
paper cut risk.
Anything that increases a letter’s
emotional value is fine by me. I do send emails,
use instant messaging, and my cell plan is rife with
free minutes. However, I write many letters, and
have gotten my best results by wielding my pen.
It’s the power of the letter
that restored my relationship with my father. The
power of the letter won the heart of the love of
my life, and let her know exactly how I felt when
I lost her. The power of the letter has rekindled
old friendships and helped to nurture new ones. Quite
simply, the power of the letter has no discernable
limits as to what it can do.
I’ve found that women understand
the letter concept I’m trying to convey much
more than men do. Women that I’ve written are
often highly impressed because I took the time to
write them—usually because no one else does
it anymore. The letter I wrote them is often the
only one they’ve ever received! While I like
the notoriety, it serves as evidence for the decay
of letter writing.
Many of the letters I’ve written
have found the legendary "bottom drawer" status,
which should be the goal when composing a letter.
This means that the words that you’ve chosen
to share have landed with such great impact that
the recipient tucks the letter away in their bottom
drawer. The letter becomes reread years down the
road, shared with loved ones, and becomes a treasured
memory as well as a tangible possession that can’t
compare with other valuable collectibles the recipient
might cherish.
I challenge you to find an email printout
tucked in someone’s bottom drawer. I doubt
someone would compromise their cell phone by tucking
it away with a favorite text message emblazoned on
it, and phone call recordings, if saved, would be
plain creepy.
A letter is the only medium with the
potential to touch so deeply as to find the "bottom
drawer." It can find the bottom of a cold heart
just as easily.
In addition, writing a letter is an
excellent experience for the author as well. There
will be a sense of satisfaction in completing one,
and letters are quite therapeutic, capable of lifting
the proverbial "weight" off one’s
chest.
Another challenge for you—think
of someone that you miss, or perhaps someone that
you love. You won’t have to think long. These
important people are at the crest of our thoughts
at any given moment. Chances are they’ve crossed
your mind already. Now, instead of submitting to
the information superhighway of today’s high-tech
communication, take a nice Sunday drive with someone
you care about—write them a letter. Now is
a good time to start
Originally published online,
Tickled by Thunder web contest winner, January
2003.
Copyright (c) 2003 for
the author, all rights reserved.
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